Not even Martha Stewart could help this kitchen.
Matter of fact, she’d take one look and run fast and run far!
I’ve written of my love for cooking and baking. Matter of fact, I seriously considered going the way of culinary school.
I didn’t so I enjoy expressing my passion as a layman. The kitchen conceptually is for me a center of immense creativity and warmth, grounding and nurturing physically, emotionally and spiritually.
When I imagine my dream home, the kitchen is a main frame in my movie. I can see the cookware, the iron skillets, the quality knives, the butcher block, the mismatched plates and cups that amuse friends and members of my tribe. Yes, I like plates not to match. Call it a quirk, an expression of eccentricity.
Let’s tour the kitchen of which I’ve oft written. It begins innocently enough with a standard fridge in the back corner; it’s old but functions. BTW, the corner of the plant stand there in the right corner marks the kitchen wall, upon which I was plastered to snap the fridge!
The electric stove and boy would I not mind pulling the pulling on it!
Don’t be fooled by the appearance. It’s a reduced-size model to accommodate tight quarters, an Easy-Bake oven, I call it. A standard cookie sheet doesn’t fit; the half-sheet for two bits from a garage sale does.
The oven really sucks. Runs too hot. Even temp adjustments and frequent monitoring won’t save baked goods from the burn. I’ve scraped black bottoms more times than I care to admit. It’s embarrassing when they’re gifts or potluck contributions!
The electric coils are tilted, heat irregularly and burn unevenly, with some portions cool black, others glowing hot orange. Only the front left functions with semi-normalcy so it gets all the use.
Nuthin’ special about the sink:
which I presume was designed to drain the water. Due to shoddy design, however, it spills onto the floor, hence the perpetual sop-up rag you see sitting there.
Hold onto your hat for the highlight, the counter space!
The wooden spoon and kitchen towel convey the work space:
That’s it. Not pictured are the tired painted walls, chipped paint, worn edges of floorboards, cupboards and drawers wearied by a century of use. No amount of spotless maintenance can restore life or bounce to this kitchen. It’s sad and pathetic and I’m a sad girl for it (not to mention hugely frustrated by pent-up creative energy).
Like I said, not even Martha Stewart could help this kitchen, neither skilled forces from Better Homes and Gardens. Nope, only one fixer is up to the task: